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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456901">Click</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargentpepper23/pseuds/Sargentpepper23'>Sargentpepper23</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trapped, but along for the ride [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Piece</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fair fun, Humor, Implied Devil Fruit, Implied Sexual Content, Past Violence, The navy isn't as glorious as it appears, To Kill or Not to Kill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:20:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24456901</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargentpepper23/pseuds/Sargentpepper23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What are those"?</p><p>"New bounties, sir.  Fresh off the press."</p><p> <br/>Or, in other news,</p><p> <br/>"The Dumbasses" get their pictures taken, Ever's going to dick punch the next marine she sees, and somewhere in the New World, a navy commodore spits out his morning coffee.  </p><p>(For backstory, I highly recommend reading, Jewels, Tools, and Fools before diving into this crack chapter)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Killer (One Piece)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Trapped, but along for the ride [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1443649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Click</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>What I should be doing:</p><p>Homework, writing K &amp; E's smut chapter I continually put off, and exercising to work off the extra fluff I've gained from lockdown.</p><p>What I have been doing:</p><p>Drinking enough Diet Coke to send someone into a caffeine-induced finger twitching competition, testing how unlimited Kindle's unlimited reading is, and writing this crack chapter, which I cannot wait to expand upon later down the road.   </p><p>Like I mentioned earlier, I highly recommend reading, or at least being familiar with the characters in Jewels, Tools, and Fools.  Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“This is ridiculous,” the burly man grumbled to the sniper next to him, "We're grown-ass men. We can't go in there. We have a reputation to uphold."</p><p>The redhead on the other side of him hummed in agreement but did not take his eyes off of the curvy, young woman seductively luring men and women alike into her roomy tent. “Yeah,” he finally managed after she ducked out of sight, the soft clinking of her bangles leaving with her, “it’ll be a waste of beli.”</p><p>“Look at all the little shits running around,” said the former rocker to no one in particular, his poison green lips pursed in thought, “who wants to hear them bitching and complaining all day”?</p><p>The human wall of muscle next to him chimed in, “And the food can’t be <em>that</em> good,” even as he swallowed the excess saliva in his mouth, the smell of fried dough beckoning him towards a stall deep in the heart of the crowd.  </p><p>“You know, they put those death traps together in less than a day, so they can’t be that safe…” finished the youngest crewmember. The brunette next to him nodded, though her star-struck gaze was fixed on the exciting rollercoaster in the distance and the perilously tall drop tower next to it.</p><p>The seven of them stood outside the bustling entrance, a constant flow of people moving past them like water around a rock. Eventually, Luther, the designated leader of today's shenanigans, declared, "Fuck it, let's go."</p><p>Grinning like the children running past them, the group passed under the colorful, striped banner welcoming them into the Palm Island Fair. Sharing one last look, the supposedly terrifying Kid Pirates split off and blended in with the crowd, disappearing without a trace.    </p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Four and a half hours later,</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The sun had set, the string lights lining the stalls and rides were flashing in an array of colors, and the hooligans had finally called it quits.</p><p>Finishing up their treats at an outdoor ice cream bar, the one Ever had demanded they hit up at least once, the group chatted about their day. Apparently, it had been eventful for all of them.</p><p>First off, Luther and Ed had beaten the majority of the rigged games in the park. Ed, who was struggling to hold his ice cream and massive stuffed penguin, bragged about his sharpshooting skills at the space-laser hut earlier that afternoon. Luther, who unceremoniously crammed his giant, green teddy bear under the table, admitted he may have threatened torture and gruesome death beyond human reasoning to the overweight security officers who had been called earlier to kick them out. Unsurprisingly, taking a swing at a worker is frowned upon. However, in Luther’s defense, the attendant was an asshole, and the kid playing beside them had caught the guy pressing a button that stopped the spaceships from tipping over.</p><p>Upon spotting the intimidating pirate they were supposed to "handle," the officers had wisely ignored the knocked out man behind the counter, emptied their wallets, and told Luther to “have a nice day,” before responding to yet another drunk and disorderly call across the grounds. After that, word spread of the terrifying trio, the small boy following them having recognized a chance to win big, and every game in the park magically became easier to win</p><p>According to Dez, his day had been pretty uneventful, which the group silently deemed unlikely. Their doubts were confirmed when the large man alluded to tracking down the fried dough’s scent like a bloodhound and wiped out the stand's entire stock of cinnamon sticks, funnel cakes, and too much of the group's disgust, deep-fried Oreos. To their further horror, after polishing off his “snack,” Dez found another stand and ate them out of all their corndogs and turkey legs.</p><p>On a completely different note, Ever and Ryder, upon learning Johnny had never been on a rollercoaster before, dragged the poor kid to every ride in the park. The good news is Johnny likes rollercoasters. The bad news is Johnny does <em>not </em>do well on spinning rides. His hurried stumbling to a conveniently placed trashcan outside the <em>Round-Up</em> had been comical and only mildly concerning to his friends struggling not to laugh their ass’s off behind him.</p><p>Last but not least, Fox, the deservingly smug asshole, described in explicit detail how he had seduced and fucked an attractive fortune-teller. The group congratulated the man on finally cutting loose, but that didn’t stop them from teasing the redhead about his probably rusty performance. After breaking his leg, surviving the surgery required after it, and working through Lou’s brutal rehab, the poor guy had been stuck with crappy blowjobs for months. <strike></strike></p><p>All in all, the fair had been an absolute blast, but it was time to head back to reality.</p><p>Abandoning the stuffed animals to the starry-eyed kids sitting across the way, the group made their way towards the exit. Luther, always on watch for danger, clicked his tongue in annoyance as a grinning cameraman bounded over, eager to make money off of selling them their photograph.</p><p>"Hey there, folks! Let's take a picture to celebrate your happy, happy day at Palm Island Fair”!</p><p>Luther, not interested, waved the man off and kept walking.</p><p>He made it three steps before Ed and Johnny dragged him in for a group photo.</p><p>Grumbling obscenities eerily similar to Dez’s behind him, Luther accepted defeat, threw an arm around Ever’s shoulder, and scowled at the perky cameraman. “All right, folks, huddle up. You in the back, scoot down, perfect. On the count of three, say cheese. One, two, three, <em>click”!</em></p><p>The photo slid out, and the cameraman studied it. "Great photo, folks"!</p><p>Before Luther could move, Ryder nearly blew out his eardrum when he shouted, “Wait, take a funny one”! <em>Oh, for fuck's sake!</em></p><p>“Sure! On the count of three, do something crazy! One, two, three, <em>click</em>”!</p><p>Finally free, Luther stalked towards the cameraman and snatched the photos from him. “Thanks,” he said with a growl, shoving beli into the man’s chest as he walked away.</p><p>Ignoring Luther’s shitty attitude, the group clamored to see the pictures as they headed back towards the ship, paying no mind to the cameraman staring after them.</p><p>While it wasn’t the end of the world, it was too bad they forgot about him. If they had been paying attention, they would have noticed him take the film out and carefully place it in a separate container. It was also likely they would have registered his greedy smile when he pulled out a transponder snail, a familiar logo emblazoned on its side. The line rang once before connecting, and the cameraman spoke, “It’s me. I have some pictures you might be interested in.”</p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Two weeks later</em>
</p><p> </p><p>It was breakfast, and by now having more than half a cup of coffee in him, Kid was functional enough to read the newspaper. Flipping through its pages, he occasionally clicked his tongue at something he found irritating, but for the most part, he was silent, focused on taking in the information before him. When he pulled out the new bounty posters, he rifled through them, muttering the words "pussy" and “weak,” until he paused with a chuckle. Peering up at the group of seven across the room, he waved the posters at them, “Hey, dumbasses! Guess you guys finally did something right.”</p><p>Ignoring their whoops of excitement, Kid scrutinized their bounties. Their amounts were modest, yet fair, but the captain didn’t care about that. More bounties meant more notoriety, and he was not about to let his crew’s fearsome reputation sink anytime soon. Still, it was strange that their pictures were so well done. Where the hell had they gotten their photos taken, and how could they have not noticed it?</p><p>Upon reaching the last poster, Kid’s expression changed, and he couldn’t stop the surprised wheeze that crawled out of his throat before laughing his ass off.  </p><p>Mildly concerned Kid was already laughing like a deranged person this early in the morning, Killer peered over at the poster, and absolutely crumpled the fork in his hand at what he saw.</p><p>Kid, having finally calmed himself down enough to speak, flipped the poster around with a grin, “Everyone, check this out”!</p><p>For a heartbeat, the room was silent, only to explode in a cacophony of noise as the crew collectively lost their shit. Over the catcalls, lewd comments, and degrading laughter, Ever stared at her bounty in outrage.</p><p>She and Luther had shared a glance when they saw Dez’s poster, recognizing it as the photo taken of them at the fair. The large man’s mug shot was from their first picture, where each of them had smiled, or at least, didn’t scowl. Ever’s bounty on the other hand…</p><p>Those motherfuckers had used her silly one, and she was going to fucking deck the next marine she saw.</p><p>Nearly two years ago, Ever had seen Nami’s wanted poster pinned up at the local bar on her island. The bounty was a huge hit with the regulars, and it had practically become a staple for women to get drunk and take likeness photos in front of it.</p><p>So, with that in mind, Ever had mimicked Nami’s stance. Absentmindedly playing with her shorter hair as she raised both arms above her head, Ever had tilted her chin up, smiled like a woman with a secret, and stared into the camera as if Killer was standing naked behind it.</p><p>Obviously, that stupid pose had been one giant mistake, and now, thanks to her being a horny dumbass, <em>everyone</em> on the entire fucking planet knew who she was. What’s worse? They’d probably take one look at her poster and think she’s the Kid pirate’s whore.</p><p>“I’m going to die,” she grumbled down at the table, “Someone’s going to hunt me down and butcher me for money.”</p><p>Ryder snickered beside her, and jerked a thumb in the direction of the first mate, “Eh, maybe, but at least you’ll die satisfied.”</p><p>She turned, and pleasurable lightning skittered through her as she took in her boyfriend's predatory posture.</p><p>Ryder was right. Killer was totally going to lick, nip, suck, finger, and fuck her later.</p><p>Leaning forward in her chair, Ever smiled coyly at him as she teasingly traced her finger around the rim of her glass. Not one to back down, Killer swiped at the maple syrup on his plate before fitting his finger into a hole through his mask, twisting it lewdly for her to see.</p><p>She swallowed. Is it bad she already wanted it to be later? Nah, it’s never too early to get down and dirty with the first mate, especially when he’s all riled up like this.     </p><p>“Ugh, get a room,” whispered Ryder.</p><p>Not taking her eyes off of the man idly running his finger through the maple syrup like he had her core two nights ago, Ever chuckled under her breath, “Later. Apparently, you and I have something to celebrate.”</p><p>And for the next two days, celebrate they did.</p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Somewhere in the New World</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“What are those,” asked a charming voice, one the tall woman recognized as her new commanding officer. Looking down, the lieutenant spotted him casually leaning against her chaotic, paper-strewn desk, his golden gaze fixed on the warm posters in her hands.</p><p>“New bounties, sir. Fresh off the press.”</p><p>“Hmmm, put them up with the others,” he finished, before running a hand through his disheveled, dark hair, and adding an ungodly amount of sugar to what had to be his third cup of coffee in the past hour.</p><p>With a humor-laced, “Yes, sir,” the lieutenant picked her way around the other desks and over to the appropriately dubbed <em>Wanted Board</em>. The whiteboard itself was massive, even for someone of her stature, and spanned the wall's width. Taped on top of it, a colored map of the Grand Line filled most of its space, with notes peppered here and there along the open edges of white. However, what really made it impressive were the dozens of wanted posters covering the map.  </p><p>Grabbing the bucket of magnets conveniently located next to the board, she pulled the track-bound whiteboard up to her level, read the information paper-clipped behind each poster, and attached the bounty to their last known location. She found every part of this task relaxing. The repetitive motions, the quiet click of magnets snapping into place, even tracing her finger along longitudinal lines brought her some form of peace. Caught in the rhythm, she pursed her lips as she posted not one, but seven new bounties under the Kid pirates, before moving across the map, only to turn in alarm at the loud coughing and sputtering behind her.</p><p>Towering above the growing crowd of concerned marines, the lieutenant winced sympathetically at her boss, who not only had coffee dripping out of his nose, but the brown liquid was staining his grey vest and wrinkled, white button-down. "Commodore, are you all right," she asked. They may have only known each other for a few months, but this wasn't normal.</p><p>He didn’t seem to hear her, his predatory gaze was fixed to a spot on the board. Wiping his nose, he stalked towards it.</p><p>“Commodore,” she asked again, a bit louder, more insistent this time. <em>Something’s wrong. </em></p><p>“Commo—“</p><p>He held his hand up at her as he reached the board, not disrespectfully, but one that signified he needed a minute. Whatever he needed a minute for was beyond her, but she waited for him to speak. He eventually would, being the chatterbox he is.</p><p>The lieutenant’s interest was further piqued by his carefully neutral expression as he dragged the board down and plucked a bounty off of it. It was of a dark-haired woman, Ever was her name, and it was easy to understand why people would spare a second glance at it. On top of being attractive, the pirate’s body language and smoldering eyes were practically goading whoever was behind the camera to come get her.</p><p>The room's tension was unsettling but short, for it melted away when the commodore chuckled and popped the bounty back with a little more force than necessary. "Sorry, everyone," he turned towards them with a cheery grin, “thought I recognized her.”</p><p>His subordinates, having also fallen victim to “Marine Syndrome” once or twice, laughed it off, and continued about their work.</p><p>Shooting the lieutenant a sheepish smile, the man apologized for interrupting her.</p><p>She smiled back, his perceived slight nonexistent. She understood why he had needed a minute. Her brother is a pirate, and it would always be weird to see someone you care for up on that board.</p><p>Resuming where she left off, the lieutenant added more bounties to the map. She trusted the commodore, and wouldn’t dream of outing his secret. It wasn’t her business, and she knew first hand the restrictions it would place on him if word got out he’s associated with a pirate.</p><p>Placing another magnet on the board, she considered a dangerous thought. Maybe one day when they knew each other better, she’d mention her brother to him, and offer an ear should he ever need to talk.</p><p>Looking over her shoulder at her boss, who was shuffling papers rather aggressively at his desk, she made her decision. She’d talk to him in a few weeks. Until then, she hoped for his sake that he could keep his mouth shut.</p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Later that evening</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The office was, much to the commodore’s relief, empty and blissfully quiet. His rowdy subordinates had left minutes ago, nearly running each other over upon hearing there were caramel covered brownies at the mess hall across base.  </p><p>While he appreciated the quiet, what he really enjoyed from the empty room was the lack of formal address. His title, the position people insisted he was, still sounded <em>wrong</em>.</p><p>After <em>The Incident</em>, he didn’t expect to receive a promotion, let alone have it “bestowed” upon him mere hours after burying his comrades.</p><p>He frowned down at his messy desk, and the pointer finger on his left hand tapped dangerously against today’s reports, a years-old bad habit he had yet to break.</p><p>He’d forgive himself just this once for succumbing to the instinctive motion. After all, it’s hard to concentrate when you remember every painstaking detail of the commendation you had no business receiving.</p><p>The droll, navy representative who had informed him of his promotion, had ignored the former captain’s gaping mouth when she told him his quick thinking and contingent emergency planning had undoubtedly saved hundreds of lives. Even though his mind and body were still numb from shoveling dirt over his dead friends, it didn't escape him that the Navy was more relieved that he had stopped the pirates from destroying an antique tea set collection. The kingdom that loaned it to the museum heavily funded the navy’s operations, and it would be wise to stay in their good graces.</p><p>His finger moved faster, harder, tapping away like a fucking jackhammer.</p><p>Bulldozing over his protests, the woman had told him he should be proud of the low casualty count from that night. In fact, he should take solace that the people who had died only did what was necessary, nay, expected of them. Her final words were spoken with a hint of threat, reminding him that it is a <em>great honor</em> to contribute to the betterment of the Navy's position in the War on Piracy.</p><p>By the time the representative had left, the newly minted commodore was shaking with fury, and the official document she had recited word for word was left on the low table between them, in the event he “had any further questions.”</p><p>He did not have any further questions, and he shredded the damn letter before he did something stupid, like send it back to HQ with a massive middle finger drawn on it.</p><p>Everything they commended him for was complete and utter horseshit. He didn’t deserve a damn thing. He had failed his men, failed the civilians caught in the crossfire, and failed to capture a single pirate.</p><p>
  <em>He had failed. </em>
</p><p>Irritated, he tore into his last piece of jerky. He shouldn't be thinking about this. The whole thing still pissed him off, and he wasn’t sure he would ever forgive the Navy for their apathetic take on the matter.</p><p>Not once, written or spoken, had they offered up a single word of sympathy for the twenty-seven comrades who had died that night. The men and women who had fought with the courage of lions against pirates they had no chance of beating. He bet the officials responsible for notifying their families didn't even bother to memorize their names. Why would they? To them, they're replaceable pieces on a chessboard. Better yet, they were sacrificial lambs offered up in hopes of taking down the big, bad wolf.  </p><p>Frustrated the words on the old report before him failed to disclose any new information, he looked up from his desk. His eyes, as they had all fucking day, traitorously focused on the poster of the woman seemingly smirking at him.</p><p>His finger was pounding now, fingernail clicking with every tap.</p><p>He had lied earlier when he said he thought he recognized her. He did recognize her, and no amount of time would change that. That was Ever, plain as day and just as cheeky as the last time he saw her.</p><p>The paper was popping up off the table now, as if caught on his nail.</p><p>He still had yet to decide how he felt about her involvement in the heist, and if he was honest with himself, he was afraid to. On some level, he wanted, no, still <em>did</em> consider her a friend.</p><p>But what she had done… Laughing and flirting, pretending she was <em>normal</em>, all while taking an insurmountable number of pictures. Pictures she sent back to the pirates who would later bring terror and violence to the peaceful island.</p><p>No, he wasn’t going to decide his feelings on Ever’s involvement yet…</p><p>Because friends shouldn’t find enjoyment in the idea of tearing their other friends apart limb from limb.</p><p>His finger pressed deeper into the paper, dragging it up with every downward stroke, and the familiar sensation of his knuckle joint elongating went unnoticed over the pounding in his ears and grinding of his jaw.</p><p>If he didn't already have twenty years' worth of practice keeping his emotions in check, he would be out of control. In reality, he wanted to rage, to scream, to do anything other than sit behind his desk like the good, little marine the Navy expects him to be. He wanted to track Ever down like the monster he is and <em>rip her apart</em>.</p><p>
  <em>No, not her. </em>
</p><p>That’s right, he thought as his eyesight sharpened, and his rounded pupils became slits as he glared at the Kid pirate bounties. It was what her crew had done…</p><p>They were the ones who had broken into the museum in the dead of night. The ones who stole every last gem on exhibit, and killed the eight, sleepy security guards not fit to watch a damn pocket watch, let alone a collection of priceless jewels.</p><p>They were the ones who blew up the forge in one of the halls, setting fire to the church next-door and killing eighteen people in the process.</p><p>They were the ones who <em>slaughtered</em> his men as he watched helplessly, unable to do a damn thing because of the literal weight of a building on his shoulders.</p><p>They were the ones who laughed, taking delight in the captain’s torment of being stuck, useless as they shot and cut down the civilians daring to help those escape from the rubble he desperately held above him.</p><p>Their laughter haunted him. It consumed and twisted his peaceful dreams until they turned into nightmares, ones where he watched his men die over, and over, and over again.</p><p>He was going to kill them. He was going to hunt the pirates down and rip them apart with the same brutality and sick delight they had shown the civilians, his men, his friends—</p><p>
  <em>THUNK!</em>
</p><p>His raptor eyes immediately sought out the source of the noise, which happened to be his finger, or at least, what used to be his finger.</p><p>A curved, black claw, nearly as long as his forearm had torn a hole straight through his reports, and sunk into the dark wood of his desk below.</p><p>He blinked owlishly. He hadn’t done that in a long time, lost his grip on the tight leash he near strangles himself with.</p><p>Staring at his claw, he willed it to morph back into something humanoid, and let out a sigh of relief when it did just that.</p><p>Flexing his fingers, he crumpled the ruined reports and tossed them in the trash. The papers didn’t matter, he’d print new ones before his lieutenant noticed they were missing. His desk, on the other hand…. A well-placed mat would have to work.</p><p>A few minutes later, and staring up at the <em>Wanted Board</em> as he waited for the new copies to print, Commodore Nox silently admitted the Navy might have been right to keep him shackled on base this long.</p><p>He wasn’t sure it was wise to re-release him, unchecked, on the world just yet.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y'all, I'm HYPED about the Wano arc :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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